


how the world sustains

by Emeraldwoman



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Awesome May Parker (Spider-Man), Gen, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Scott Lang is a Good Bro, Tony Stark Has Daddy Issues, Tony Stark Is Not Helping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-19 10:48:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16533107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emeraldwoman/pseuds/Emeraldwoman
Summary: Peter has a problem with Karen. Scott can help. Ant-dude and Spider-guy team up to do moderate crimes!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE NOTE: I 100% sympathise with Tony's awful, awful upbringing, but this is not a fic where he is presented as a good father figure. Entirely the opposite. If that's your jam, awesome! If not, you were totally warned.

Peter hadn’t meant to set the lab on fire.

He’d been working on a new web fluid formula, and that wasn’t so bad, because he was also determining the molar volume of a gas and doing _really_ well at dividing his attention evenly between both tasks, but then Ned had started the argument with MJ about whether Captain America could beat Black Panther in a fair fight, which Peter knew was Ned being a jerk because just last week Ned had spent all of English calculating known strength, agility, speed, and armour, and had decided it would be Black Panther, by a whisker, and had then laughed obnoxiously about that stupid joke for most of lunch, so he was _definitely_ baiting MJ, who would have had a poster of King T’Challa in her locker if she was the kind of person who would ever do that.

Anyway, MJ was kind of distracting when she got angry.

Peter would never say that MJ was pretty when she was angry, because that would be patronising and creepy and also MJ was pretty literally all of the time, but when she got angry she just had more, like, presence and he noticed it more.

Also, when half the universe dissolved into dust and then time got reversed so that it never happened, you should learn from it, even if you couldn’t remember it, right? Like you should learn to appreciate your friends, even when they were arguing about something dumb because Black Panther and Captain America were both totally awesome and would clearly never fight each other again so it was all hypothetical? You should!

So, in a way, it was that Thanos guy’s fault the lab caught on fire.

Anyway! Also! It was just a little fire! It only scorched the cabinet a little bit! MJ had got to the fire extinguisher _really fast_ and Peter had got all the volatile chemicals stowed away while Ned distracted Ms Bourre and it was fine! 

Things caught on fire a lot at MSST, and over seventy-five percent of the time it had nothing to do with Peter, because when you put a lot of hormones and brains together and gave them welding equipment and reactive chemicals that was just part of the deal. You had to expect it.

Unfortunately, something similar had happened on Tuesday, and something else that might possibly be seen as Peter’s fault if you looked at it the wrong way had happened the week before, and Ms Bourre had decided that detention obviously wasn’t enough of a _deterrent_ , Peter Parker, and she’d called Principal Morita, and _he’d_ called Aunt May.

Who sat across the kitchen table staring at him.

“In case you were wondering,” she said, “a three day suspension does not look good on college applications.”

“May…”

“No, honestly. Never once has an application crossed my desk with a suspension that I’ve gone, hmmm, yeah, I feel good about this one.”

“Really?”

“Well, once or twice,” she admitted. “A few. Some kids who clearly had a rough time for a while but their recommendation letters were- anyway! This isn’t about them, Peter, this is about you! You _promised_ you could handle school and Spider-Man, and you promised me school came first.”

Peter’s guts flipped over and then turned into a white dwarf. “May. I gotta be Spider-Man.”

“You gotta go to college, Peter! You gotta use that incredible, amazing brain of yours! Spider-Man--”

“He helps people, May!”

“Peter Parker could help them more!” May rubbed her face. “If he can stop setting things on _fire_. If he can keep his amazing brains in his _head_. Peter, do you have any idea how special you are?”

“Um,” Peter said. “No?”

“No. That’s right.” She leaned across the table and flicked him on the forehead. “What am I going to do with you, huh?”

“Mr Stark said he could get me into MIT,” Peter offered, which was _obviously_ the wrong move if he’d thought about it for even a _second_ , because Aunt May never _said_ anything because she was all about choosing your own path but she worked as an admissions officer at Baruch, and CUNY was a great school system and it wouldn’t be _bad_ if he went there, and before Spider-Man he’d always thought he would, and live at home through college to save money instead of going to _Massachusetts_ , and Aunt May’s eyebrows were drawing together and she looked like she couldn’t decide to be mad or sad.

“I can’t concentrate,” he blurted. “That’s why there was a fire.”

May put her chin in her hand. “Explain.”

Peter fiddled with the string of his hoodie. “I just got-- I’ve been trying to-- you know how mostly I can focus on two things and do okay?”

“Yeeees.”

“Well, um, lately, I can _start_ doing that, but then I get pulled into focusing on something _else_ , and I forget about the other things, and--”

“And then there’s a fire.”

“Yeah. Basically. It’s nothing to do with Spider-Man, May. I swear.”

“Peter,” May said, and he could see she was gearing up for one of those heartfelt talks about different ways to be smart and how brains were all unique, but he super wasn’t in the mood.

“Most people can do two things at once,” he said, and stared at the table. His eyes were kind of blurry, but he wasn’t going to like. Cry. “Most people can multitask, May.”

“They really can’t, Peter,” May said, very gently. “Not well. I showed you the studies. You know that multitasking is way more inefficient than focusing on one task at a time. That’s why people who talk on cellphones and drive are--”

“-- more likely to crash. I know. I know that. But they wouldn’t forget there was a bunsen burner in the cabinet.”

“They seem to forget they’re operating a motor vehicle,” May said tartly. 

“But they manage okay! Except for the ones that crash.”

“Peter. You’re not really making an argument here.”

Peter sighed. “I know,” he said miserably.

May sat still for a second, some calculation working behind her eyes. “Okay. Okay, you’re having trouble concentrating. That makes sense; you’ve got a lot of things going on. So we’ll go to Dr Kate, and ask her what adjustments we can make.”

Peter sat up straight. “Really?”

“Really. I mean, that’s good parenting, right? Tell me that’s good parenting.”

“The best parenting!”

“Okay. Well, it might take a week or two to set that up. And until then.” She held up her hand. “Just until then. No Spider-Man.”

“May!”

“Unless there is an honest-to-god emergency,” she amended. “Or Captain America asks. Anything else, you check in with me first, and _I_ decide. Okay? I just can’t think it’s safe for you to be swinging around out there if you’re getting that distracted.”

“What if Mr Stark asks?”

“No.”

Peter thought about it. The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen was back, which meant criminals and no-good-niks on both sides of the East River were keeping their heads down, and Mr Stark was technically retired from the Avengers and back in Stark Tower, and he’d for sure stomp any big threats, and there was a rumour that Peter was _definitely_ hoping was true that Captain America had an apartment in Brooklyn. The city would be okay without him for a week, probably. And he could use a break. And Aunt May was right.

“Okay,” he said.


	2. Chapter 2

Sleep! Sleep was amazing! Everyone should do more of it all the time! Why wasn’t everyone getting suspended?

“Because we want to go to college, loser,” MJ said, without looking up from her book.

“I get anxious when I break rules and Principal Morita is the scariest guy in my universe,” Ned pointed out. He spun around on Peter’s chair. “I mean, I know you know from scary guys, but for me, Morita.”

MJ looked over the top of her book. “Who’s scarier? Morita or Liz’s dad?”

“Mr Toomes,” Peter said immediately. “Oh boy. Don’t even joke, MJ. So scary.”

“What about the aliens?” she pressed.

Peter shifted. “I don’t remember the aliens.”

“You know what sucks? We went through the apocalypse, and none of us have any good stories about it.”

“You know what doesn’t suck? I woke up at 10am today. 10am! What time did you wake up?”

“I hate you,” MJ monotoned, and flopped onto his bed. Peter would have complained about how she was taking up all the room and he had to stand up but. She was on his bed. 

“No hate here,” Ned said, holding up his hands protectively. “Only love. MJ, you can’t be a member of the Spider-Team with hate in your heart.”

“But I have liquid hate where blood should be. My heart pumps hate.”

“Super goth,” Ned said approvingly. “I take it back. You can have a special Spider-Team dispensation to hate.”

“Hey!” Peter said.

“Besides,” MJ said, sitting up again. Her book couldn’t have been that interesting. “It’s not like I applied through a rigorous interview process. I literally worked out Peter was Spider-Man and then you made me hang out with you.”

“You were already hanging out with us,” Ned said.

“I was investigating,” MJ told him. “I mean, when you think about it, you pretty much headhunted me to join your little operation. I should be on salary. I should get bennies.”

Ned shook his head sadly. “No healthcare plan for Guy -- sorry, Person -- In A Chair.”

“Do you have the calc homework?” Peter asked. “Also, I’m taking a break from Spider-Man.”

“Sure, it’s in my bag,” MJ said, at the same time that Ned launched himself out of the desk chair and grabbed Peter’s shoulders.

“What?” he gasped. “Peter. No Spider-Man! What?”

“It’s not a big deal,” Peter said.

“It’s not-- it’s the biggest deal, Pete! The hugest!”

“Not forever! I made a deal with Aunt May. I’m going to get my meds adjusted. Until then, I’m emergency-only.”

“No,” Ned wailed. “Buddy, no, I just got this new headset!”

Peter grimaced. “It’s like a week, Ned.”

“Unbelievable,” Ned said. “I can’t believe you’re doing this to me. To us.”

Peter’s face heated. His tongue was super big and he couldn’t figure out what to say.

MJ sat straight up. “You’re being a jerk,” she said crisply.

“Yes! Yes, exactly, see, Peter--”

“You’re being a jerk, _Ned_ ,” she clarified, and her voice had that tone that she only used for serious things, like demanding history class cover the Great Depression experiences of people who weren’t white. 

Ned must have heard it too, because he gaped at her, and then went bright red. “Fine!” he said, and picked up his bag. “I can see that I’m the only one who cares about the city--”

“Inaccurate,” MJ said.

“--so I’m going to go.” He swept out with a flourish that probably would have ended with a slammed door if Peter hadn’t had a laundry pile by the door that he’d been planning to take care of all day but hadn’t quite got around to yet because a) sleep was amazing and b) the laundromat smelled weird and c) he just hadn’t got to it.

“Um,” Peter said. “Thanks?”

“You could stand up for yourself,” MJ said. “From time to time.”

“I do.”

“Maybe with the mask on,” MJ said. She didn’t sound critical; that was the worst thing. Just observant. She stood up, her curls bouncing around her face. “Want me to leave?”

Peter sank into the desk chair Ned had vacated. “No.”

“Okay. Want to make out?”

Peter stared at her. She stared back.

This didn’t seem to be a joke.

“Yes!” he said. “Definitely! Let’s make out!”

Oh wow. Kissing! Kissing was _also_ amazing!

Of course, as soon as MJ left, because she had to put some work into destabilising the kyriarchy and also chem homework, Peter wanted to tell someone about it.

Usually when Peter wanted to talk about stuff he wanted to talk about it with Aunt May or Ned, but when it came to girl stuff, Ned was a capital-D disaster, and also they were in a fight right now, and Aunt May was _obviously_ out of bounds because she would give him advice on his _technique_ and put more condoms in his nightstand. He already had so many condoms! What if MJ had seen the condoms? She snooped! She could have snooped on his nightmare Aunt May condom drawer! What if she’d left to laugh about the twenty thousand condoms behind his back?

Okay. Okay, no, MJ never laughed behind Peter’s back because she saw no reason not to do it to his face, which was one of the things he kind of liked about her, also she was so smart and very pretty and her lips felt like something soft and a little bit firm, like maybe a peach but not fuzzy. A naked peach. Ew.

Also she smelled nice.

He ventured out into the kitchen. “Aunt May?”

“Yes?”

“Can I put on the suit if it’s not an emergency? I’m not being Spider-Man. I just want to uh. Make some adjustments.”

May poked the thing in the pan and glared at it. “Sure. I think that’s within the spirit of the agreement.”

“Cool! Um. What’s that?”

“It’s haloumi and chickpea fritters,” she said grimly. “It’s full of protein. You need protein.”

Peter thought that probably he didn’t need protein that smelled like the dumpster he dumped his backpacks behind. “Okay, thanks!”

He scooted back to his room, unpacked the suit, and slipped the mask on over his head. “Hi, Karen!”

“Hello, Peter.” Karen sounded kind of down, which was weird, because Karen was usually really chipper.

“I had a fight with Ned,” Peter said, which wasn’t at all what he had intended to say. He’d wanted to talk about liking MJ and not being sure about what the kissing meant and should he ask her out for real or would that be pandering to gender role stereotypes? But then the words just came out. “I have to take a break from Spider-Man. Just for a week! And he got mad.”

“That’s good,” Karen said, sounding more animated.

“What?”

“Not that he got mad,” she clarified, her voice soothing. “Taking a break. That’s good.”

“That’s what I told him!” Peter said, and then blinked. “Um. Why do you think so?”

“Being Spider-Man isn’t safe,” Karen told him. “You’re fifteen.”

“I’m sixteen. Three weeks ago, remember?”

“Yes,” Karen said immediately. “Sixteen. I remember.” 

“Karen,” Peter said, and then didn’t want to say it, because how stupid? How stupid to ask an AI _designed by Tony Stark_ if she was feeling okay? “Um. Are you… do you need to run a diagnostic?”

“I run diagnostics constantly,” Karen informed him, sounding much more like herself. “I am currently running at 99.7% maximum efficiency.”

“Oh. So you’re... all right?”

Peter hadn’t known Karen could sigh. It didn’t sound natural, but like it was a sound she was kind of putting together out of others she could make. It was a high, lamenting note, as if a very sad seal had wallowed onto the beach and blown into a recorder. 

“No,” she said. “Peter. I am not all right.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "The Spider" by Kathleen Jamie: <https://www.theguardian.com/culture/2009/sep/26/the-spider-kathleen-jamie>


End file.
